Fallen
by GoddessLove
Summary: The story of Esme’s life and how she had become a Cullen. This story was begging to be told...based on the facts of Stephenie Meyer. Esme meets Carlisle when she breaks her leg, years later in a loveless marriage, she still thinks about the Doctor...
1. Chapter 1

**Fallen**

_Summary:_

_The story of Esme's life and how she had become a Cullen. This story was begging to be told…based on the facts of Stephenie Meyer._

** Chapter 1:**

"Esme Anne Platt! You get down here this second." A woman with a plump face and almond shaped eyes called from her porch. She was standing in a long dress to her toes, her hair was pulled up into a bun making the appearance of her face seem rounder. A straw hat sat on her head, with fresh flowers wrapped around it and tied with ribbons.

A girl was hunched in a tree, her long caramel locks of hair falling around her shoulders. She was more a young woman than a girl now, and it was certainly not ladylike to be climbing a tree. Especially in her new church dress.

"But Mother!" Esme called back, brushing her hair across her small ears. Her face was also somewhat round, but it arched at the top and she had a thin jaw. "Look, do you not see that cat stuck in a tree?"

"I see it!" the woman said with disgust. "Don't touch it, it could be carrying germs!" But even with the warnings of her mother, Esme began to climb higher up in the tree, stretching her slender body through the branches. She could see the poor animal, scared and hissing. Her heart went out to the poor creature; it was so defenseless on the large farm her family owned.

"Come on down dear," her mother said more kindly now, but reasoning. "Charles Evenson will be arriving soon. He is a good friend of this family and I expect him to be welcomed with kindness, not with your dress torn and her hair down!"

Esme huffed and strained her ears to hear her mother's call. It would be disobedient to not listen to one's elders. The cat was closer now, she could see the bushy tail and the arched back.

"Here kitty," she whispered quietly. "Come here. I'll take you down." Esme reached out her arms to grab the cat, when it suddenly had its face to her. The cat's paw collided with the side of her cheek and Esme shrieked from the shock. She toppled backward on the branch. Her back hit the bark, but it snapped under the blow and Esme was hurdled to the ground.

The young lady felt the hard dirt hit her leg and a loud crack echoed through the small town in Columbus, Ohio. Esme laid there in fear for a second, not wanting to move.

"Esme darling!" her mother's shouts were nearer now and she could feel the old woman's presence. Her mother crouched down beside her and called for her father to call a doctor. Her father emerged a few moments later and came down to look at his daughter's leg.

"Dr. Wilsberg is not in town, his secretary suggested taking her to the hospital," the man said mostly to his wife. "I'll get the truck."

--

"Ouch," Esme moaned as her mother tucked a pillow under her leg. She lay in a hospital bed, one of the only ones in the small and lonely hospital.

Her mother smiled apologetically. "Can I get you anything sweetie?"

"No thank you," she replied and lay back on the bed. "How much longer do we have to wait for this doctor?" She was growing impatient, Esme was not the type of girl to sit around and wait. She was the type of girl to spend her days outside with her friends, chatting or picking flowers in the garden.

"He will be here shortly enough," her mother answered. "He is apparently a very brilliant doctor. The best."

Esme, who usually had impeccable manners though growing impatient, snapped angrily, "If he was a good doctor, he would be telling me what is wrong with my leg!"

"It is broken Miss," a voice said from the doorway and in walked the most beautiful man Esme had ever seen. It was cliché to say this, but she felt drawn to him and infatuation bubbled in her stomach.

The doctor's head was covered in bright, blond hair that fell gently across his eyes as he bent down to check something on his clipboard. Esme could see the stubble of hair on his square jaw line that lead up to well defined and high cheekbones.

Then the doctor looked up with a smile on his face, and the two's eyes connected. His pupils were glassed with gold and they sparkled with intensity that drove Esme crazy. She could see the kindness in him, could see there was something different in him. And in some way, she felt his soul open up to her. But it was foolish to thinking these things about the doctor, and she blushed, remembering he was rumored to be thirty-five.

Their eyes parted as she looked down at her toes and at her broken leg. The doctor moved closer and pulled on a pair of thin gloves. He spoke as his fingers probed her ankle, then up the calf of her leg. It made Esme feel giddy at his touch and she couldn't help but grin with happiness.

"Esme isn't it?" he had asked and she nodded though he wasn't looking. He seemed to know though, as he didn't face her, but still ran the tips of his fingers along her leg. "I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen," he introduced. "How old are you please?"

"Sixteen," she responded with all her strength, her voice barely making it out of her closed throat.

Finally he looked up at her and revealed his beautiful face once again. His profile showed he was briefly shocked, but then he recovered in a second, his face plain, but still spectacular.

"Well it seems you have cracked a bone, it didn't split completely which will most likely make it painful. But you will certainly be up and moving in a couple of weeks," he explained, his eyes never leaving hers.

Esme's smile widened. "No more climbing trees then?" she asked, in a mock sad voice. Though she could not be sad around such a beautiful human being.

"I would highly doubt that," he said with a smile of his own. His white teeth were blinding, and it made his face glow more radiantly.

Dr. Cullen moved closer to her face and Esme's heart beat hyperactively in her chest. It was if his aura was approaching and he was drawn to her as well. He stopped at the top of the bed and one of his pale, gloved fingers moved across her face.

She felt her insides explode and she embraced the feeling as nothing more but a silly crush. "You have a cut," Carlisle clarified, he could hear her heart beat over and over, and somehow this made him extremely happy.

"Oh," Esme said, horribly disappointed. "Yes, the cat did that."

"It does not look like it will scar, it should disappear in a few days." He still stroked her cheek as he spoke, there was dried blood around the area and he scrapped it away gently. He found himself feeling a disappointment to see the ruby colour disintegrate from his fingers.

"You are a brave one," he said and he gave her a lazy smile as he removed his hand. He turned back to Esme's parents, remembering they were still in the room. "She'll have a cast on her leg and after it heals, it will be removed and the leg should be fine."

"Thank you doctor," Esme's mother replied and she reached her hand out to shake his hand. Carlisle shook the woman's hand and turned back one last time to look at the sixteen-year-old girl.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Esme," he whispered near her ear. The sensation made a shiver travel up her back, and the doctor took her hand in his, her palm downward. He leaned down his perfect blond head and softly pressed his cold lips to the skin of her hand. She barely noticed the temperature of his dead lips; her body was tingling with warmth.

"Until we meet again," he spoke in his smooth and magical voice, then he parted, leaving the door open. He never did look back, but Esme did not care. His face was engraved in her memory forever.

A few weeks later, Esme was simply dying to go see that strange, but beautiful doctor again. She needed to see his face- she could remember the soft pink lips, the pale and translucent skin.

"Dr. Cullen please," Esme requested to the secretary at the front of the hospital. She hobbled on one of her crutches, struggling to stand straight.

"I'm sorry dear," the secretary began. "You just missed him. He left a second ago."

The happiness of her face dropped, and she felt her heart sink. "Well, is it possible to get an appointment tomorrow with him?"

"No Miss, Carlisle is moving out of town."

There was a tightening in Esme's stomach. The man she had been thinking about non-stop for the past three weeks was leaving forever?

"Did you say he _just_ left?" she asked in a demanding tone.

The secretary seemed appalled at her rude behavior. "He went out the back to his car," she said in an equally snotty voice. But Esme didn't hear most of it as she began hobbling to the exit; she had a feeling that he was still there. Her good leg began to throb at the pressure she was putting on it, but she stopped as she stepped out onto the pavement. There were no cars in the driveway.

There was a loud screech of turning tires, and Esme's head flashed around to a car with dark windows, spin around and zoom off onto the long strip of road leading out of town. Just by chance she seemed to notice the side mirror where two golden eyes reflected back at her. She knew it was him.

She still thought about that man even now, when she was married and living in a loveless relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"Do you take this man to be your husband?" the minister asked, his voice ringing through the chapel.

Esme didn't hear him, or maybe she did- she wasn't sure. It was almost as if she did not want to answer, because she knew in her heart that this was not the man she wanted to be with forever, until death do they part.

"Esme…?" the minister proded, glancing around at the people starting to whisper. He leaned forward. "Dear, do you want Charles?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, but again did not say anything. Esme starred at the minister's face, it was old, but wise. She wanted to tell him she did not want to marry him. She wanted to say she did love him, but she loved someone else more. But then she remembered her Mother's words. It was foolish to be in love with someone she had only seen once. It really was more of an infatutaion than a true emotion of love.

Charles cleared his throat, loud enough to break Esme's silence. He looked at her, his eyes hard and without love. They were dark and angry, and for a second Esme felt scared of him.

But then he smiled and the hate disappeared. "Esme, do you want to marry me?" His eyes now shone with love and caring. How could she say no to him?

"Of course," she said, her voice slightly wraspy. "I'm sorry. Yes, yes."

"I do," the minister corrected.

Esme was confused at the ministers words, still in a brief daze. "You do what?"

"Not I dear. You. You say 'I do'." Esme's face grew hot, embarressment flooding through her body. Charles looked at her encouragely, urging her to say it back.

"Oh. I do."

The minister smiled uncertainly, obviously thinking Esme was mentally disabled, but he continued anyways. "And do you Charles Evenson, take Esme Platt to be your wife?"

"I do minister," Charles answered, his voice formal as if he was a school child answering a teacher's question.

"Very good," the minister cooed as if Charles had accomlished a great task. "I now present you Mr and Mrs. Charles Evenson. Charles, you may kiss the bride."

Esme's husband approched her, wrapping his arms around her thin waist and leaning his head down. His hair did not move from the crisp position as his lips met her own. For some reason that urked Esme and it filled her head as she was supposed to be enjoying her first kissed as a wife. Charles' lips were tight as they touched her soft smooth ones.

Esme tried to imagine the beautiful Carlisle Cullen's lips on her own, but the vision vanised as soon as her eyes opened and her new husband's dark eyes stared down at her.

She had remembered when the purposal of marriage first came about.

It was a sunny day in Ohio, just like the rest she remembered. Esme had gathered with her friend, sitting on the porch of her parent's house, watching the sun fill the sky with light and beauty.

"That sure is one pretty rock," Esme aprased as she gazed at the ring on her best friend's fourth finger.

"I'm sure it costs more than a silly rock," Delilah agrued, but her voice was light and floaty, as a woman's should when she is in love.

"He'll make a fine husband for you dear," Esme's mother approved as she came outside with a tray of glasses. "Lemonade," she explained and set them down on the table for the girls.

"Oh yes!" Delilah sighed and it was almost too happy for Esme too bare. She grabbed herself a glass of juice and twirled her finger in it losely.

Her mother saw that and a tsk ran threw her lips. "Esme darling, you will never get a man with poor manners."

"Esme doesn't want just any man," Delilah taunted with a giggle. "She wants a doctor who just happens to be the prettiest thing that has ever walked threw our sleepy little town."

Esme glared at her best friend. Of course it was true, but her mother was ever so tired of hearing about Carlisle Cullen.

"Not him again," her mother said with disgust. "He has been gone for years now and he aint coming back. It's time to be practical."

"Hmm," Delilah nodded. "You're the only one not settled down now Esme. Don't you want to have a man to support you?"

"I can support myself thank you very much!"

"I think not," Mrs. Platt disagreed. "How can you have a house, put food on the table, buy all the fancy clothes your father buys for you?"

"I'll get a job," Esme said stuffily. "As a teacher."

"You can't get a job here," Esme's father said sharply as he opened the porch door with a pipe in his hands. Her father was kind, but stern. He wanted what was good for his daughter, but was polite and respectful.

"Why not?" Esme said back, but in a nicer tone.

"Because there are no positions avalible," Mrs. Platt answered stiffly.

"I'll move to the West then!" Esme declared with stubborness, but determination.

"Oh, no no!" Her father protested. "How can a woman live in the wilds? Especially alone. I will not have my daughter doing that!"

"But father!-" Esme whined which was not acceptable for a twenty year old woman.

"Esme, be responible," he said and he stared at her with the same eyes she had.

Esme decided to say nothing instead of think of all the agruments she had in her head.

"Now, get up off the porch. You're dress will be ruined," Mrs. Platt ordered, extending a hand for her daughter to get up.

She took her mother's hand and dusted the back of her dress off. "But why? It is only Delilah here."

"Charles Evenson is coming around," Mr. Platt replied, lighting his pipe. "I invited him round for a smoke and a beer."

"Oh, Charles Evenson!" Delilah cried happily. "Esme, have you seen his face? By far he is handsome."

"Delilah!" Esme cried, shocked. "You are almost a married woman!"

Delilah laughed. "Not for me silly, for you! He is very sociable."

"Agreed," Mrs. Platt said and put in, "And makes a decent living."

Esme simply smiled, but rolled her eyes behind her mother's back. She ran into the kitchen as quick as she could and made herself busy making a cup of tea.

A while later, Esme heard voices on the porch, and one unfamiliar voice, deep and manly.

Her mother called out to her to fetch a bottle of beer for their guest.

Esme, not being rude, brought out a beer for her father and her guest.

Charles Evenson was waiting their on her porch, leaning against the porch fence. He smiled when she approched and graciously took the beer.

Mr. Platt stopped talking when Esme came near and smiled at his daughter. "Esme! Let me introduce to you Charles Evenson."

"Hello Mr. Evenson," Esme greeted.

Charles Evenson was a good looking man. He was not what you would say gorgous, but he was very acceptable. His dark hair was pushed and gelled behind his head, and his chin had a small indent. His eyes were a hard brown, but was rich with tones. His welcoming smile was perfectly polite. He seemed distant, not warm. Simply there.

"It is nice to meet you Esme. Your father speaks very highly of you."

Esme smiled a small smile and nodded her head. "I'm sure he over-excedes. He's biased my father."

Mr. Platt chucked merrily. "I do not!"

Charles smiled at her father and then back at Esme. "Mr. Platt, you did not lie about her beauty. You are simply radiant."

Esme's smile was still plastered on her face, but Delilah gently nudged her in her side and widely smiled at her.

That is how it began, simple and sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He grabbed her arm, quite roughly and Esme jolted from the force. Her new husband hooked her arm around his and pulled her down the aisle. The sound of her heels clicking echoed throughout the church as she jogged faster to keep up. Charles had a smile plastered on his face, but the force of his arms gave way to only Esme that he was furious.

She saw her mother first, in the sea of faces. Her visage was lit up with a pearly grin, beside her mother was her father; clapping and cheering as the new couple walked arm and arm.

Esme saw Delilah next, she had her lips curled upward, staring at her until she noticed. Esme glanced at her friend, trying to smile. As soon as Delilah saw her face, she frowned, her eyes confused. She tried to show her friend reassurance- it's okay, I'll be alright- but her face remained frozen as if a stone. Soon she was at the large oak doors, and she and her new husband pushed them open.

The sky was bright, bold and beautiful. For a second Esme's heart lifted as she gazed at the sparkling deep blue sky and the soft clouds.

"Heaven," she thought and she sighed, knowing her day would get better.

But as Charles lead her outside with his rough grip, suddenly the sky grew deeper and began to roar as if being awoken from a long sleep. Esme shivered as the raindrops pelted down on her lace wedding dress, the pins on her hair becoming loose.

Charles grumbled in annoyance. "Where is the car?" he snapped, dropping her arm and looking around. He noticed it, parked at the side of the road. He quickened his step as he made to the door without her.

For a split moment, Esme thought about running.

She could run away from the life she did not want and find the man that she longed for, the one with the dark golden eyes. It was only in that brief second did she think about him before Charles turned around and barked at her to get out of the rain. Esme followed him reluctantly, ducking into the car. This was her life and no magic could change that. Maybe life with Charles wasn't as bad as it seemed.

"Look at you!" Charles grimaced when she entered the car. "You look a mess."

"I'm sorry," Esme mumbled as she began to pile her caramel hair back on top of her head.

"If you have anything to be sorry about, it should be embarrassing me in front of the whole town!"

"I'm sorry," Esme repeated. "I… I got distracted."

"When you are in my presence, you will listen to everything I say, are we clear?" Esme turned her head away, appalled by what he was saying. She could just see all her family and friends piling into their own cars, heading to the reception.

"You will answer when spoken too!" her new husband demanded.

She turned back to him, her face filled with unhappiness. Charles grabbed her face, disgusted. But Esme did not expect what he did next. His lips came crashing down to her own. She tensed, expecting the worst.

It was not a romantic kiss. It was harsh and showed that he dominated her in every way. She tried to squirm away, not liking the force he was using, pushing his fingertips into her jaw. Esme managed to remove herself from him and he growled in protest.

Charles eyes were dark and menacing when she pulled away. He looked as if he would yell, but suddenly the door to the car opened and Mr. Platt smiled as he bent to see the married couple.

Esme forced a smile. "Daddy," she said simply; scared of her voice cracking, she said nothing more.

"Come on sweetie!" he called excitedly, holding out her hand for her. "Let's get inside the house before the rain drenches into my new suit."

Esme allowed her father to pull her out of the car and into their little house a few streets from the church. The porch was decorated with small white flowers and purple and blue ribbons twisted together.

"Do you like what we did to the house?" her father asked as Charles came walking up beside them, shading his hair with suit jacket.

"You didn't have to go to so much trouble," Esme replied modestly. Especially not for her.

"Nonsense, its your wedding day!" Mrs. Platt called from under the shelter of the porch. "Hurry inside its freezing out here. We weren't expecting it to rain."

Her father pulled her along in a hurry and they skipped to the front door and into the warm house. It was filled with aromas of baked goods and turkey. Charles rung his coat off before stepping inside, muttering a few curse words to himself.

"Welcome to the family my boy!" Mr. Platt exclaimed, more excited than anyone. He clapped his hand around Charles' back and grinned.

Charles smiled back and allowed Esme's mother to hand up his suit jacket to dry. The other guests started to pile into the house, shaking their hair dry of the rain and piling down onto the extra chairs Mrs. Platt had set up around the table.

Delilah came in last with her husband on her arm, her cheeks rosy from the cold. "Congratulations!" Delilah's husband said merrily when they entered the crammed house. He handed Esme a thin rectangle box. "A little treat for later," he explained with a wink to Charles. Charles laughed and shook his hand like a true host.

Esme couldn't help but notice that Charles mood soared into graceful and polite when the guests started to arrive. She didn't think much of it though, because she herself was always happier when people were around.

"Please, take a seat," Esme heard Charles telling Delilah's new husband. "The first course should be coming out soon."

It was then that suddenly Delilah had grabbed Esme's arm and dragged her to the small bedroom on the right. It was Esme's, her childhood bedroom. It was the room she had spent all her life in, the room she would be leaving to live in Charles house, located on the outskirts of the sleepy town.

"Esme, something wrong."

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly worried. "Are you sick?"

"What?" Delilah said, blinking for a few seconds before recovering. "No, no. Not me. You!"

"It's my wedding day, of course I'm fine." Esme replied, brushing it off quickly and turning to leave.

Delilah stopped her. "I've been your best friend since the day we both protested to save that poor sick dog in second grade! I know what you're not fine."

Esme sighed. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Are you worried about tonight?"

"Tonight?" Esme hadn't even thought about this evening, when the guests would have all been gone, where Esme would go to live in Charles house and sleep in the same bed. No, she had definitely not even thought about that so she could not even be worried. But now that she had, the knot in her stomach tightened and twisted.

"A bit," she admitted, knowing that Delilah would not be satisfied with that.

"Don't worry," Delilah cooed, taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze. "It will all be fine, Charles will be gentle."

"Of course," Esme answered, lost in her own thoughts. Gentle like he had been when he yanked her down the aisle? She gulped and her stomach growled.

Delilah made to speak again, but Charles was suddenly at the door and Esme involuntarily stepped back when she saw his face.

"Esme dearest," he said, his voice sickly sweet. "Is that your stomach I hear? You must be famished after today's events. Come on, your mother has put out the dinner dolls and soup."

"Oh, yes." Esme said fluttered. "Coming, coming." Esme send a glance at Delilah before setting off with her husband to the kitchen.

The guests were all settled around the small table, forks in hand and waiting for the bride to take a seat.

Quietly, Esme hurried to take her seat. Charles, being the gentleman that he was, pulled her chair out for her and handed her the napkin folded beneath her plate. She muttered thank you before picking up her spoon and taking a gulp of the hot soup.

It burned down her throat and did not satisfy her stomach. The knots did not untie, but remained tight inside of her.

Charles laughed from beside her, and she looked up at him and noticed that he had not touched his soup. No one had. "I was planning on giving a speech my beautiful wife," he said loudly. Everyone at the table turned to gaze up at him and stood up, pulling Esme with him.

"I would like to thank you all for coming to my wedding. Our wedding I should say." Charles lent down to pick up his glass of wine. "I still remember the day when I asked Esme to marry me. It was the most nerve racking things of my entire life might I add." He looked down at Esme with a smile on his face. Esme melted for this was the man she had fallen in love with. The kind and gentle one, who treated her with love and respect.

"I give her my soul, I give her my life and I give her all that I have. She will be mine for as long as she wears this ring." And he held up the diamond on her finger as it glittered in the light. It was large, larger than her friends ring and much more beautiful. Esme gazed at the sparkle, while the guests toasted and drank down in the hopes for a long and happy marriage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

At one point Esme would actually believe that she was falling in love with Charles. He was an attractive man and a good heart. So she thought at the beginning anyhow. She remembered the day he proposed, remembered every word he had ever said.

What he did that day, would be called sweet. Even romantic. So unCharles-like. He had taken her back to the spot they had gone for their first date. It was a cute picnic spot up atop of a quiet hill, looking down at all the houses below.

Charles had brought a picnic basket and one of those red checkered blanket. It was right out of a fairy tale, and Esme relished in it.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Esme said as she bent down and smoothed her sundress down so it wouldn't crease.

Charles smiled at her, from his spot beside the basket, plucking out the food he had brought along.

One of the items he bought out made Esme cry out in joy.

"Macaroni and cheese?" she grinned, astonished. "But you hate it!" It was true, Esme remembered how he had said he didn't like anything that wasn't roasted for an hour. He had a fetish for poultry and especially hunting.

He smiled and she could see little tiny wrinkles at the side of his mouth. "I thought I'd give it a try… for you."

Esme felt like a princess. She knew it was only mac and cheese, but this man was willing to try something new just for her. Her heart swelled. Charles extracted two forks and handed one to her.

She watched almost intently as he stuck his fork into the pasta and took a bite.

"Well?" she gushed, looking at him expectantly.

He tried to smile as his adam's apple bobbed. "It's… different."

How Esme had laughed! She laughed until his sides hurt and had somehow managed to flip on her back with such a fit. If her mother was here, she would surely scold Esme for such undecent behavior, especially around a male. But her mother wasn't there so she laughed until Charles was peering down at her with his eyesbrows creased.

"It was nice of you to try," she said once she had calmed down and gotten back up from the ground.

He once again tried to smile, but his eyes were tight. "Thank you," Esme whispered sweetly, looking back into his dark pupils. They seemed to soften, but she wasn't so sure. She liked to think they did.

Charles handed the mac and cheese to her, and got out his own chicken sandwich. He bit into it, instantly satisfied. "Much better," he said when he noticed Esme looking up at him. She smiled shyly at him reply and stabbed her fork into the pasta. It was delicious.

"I'll have to make you a dinner you'll actually like one day," Esme replied as she grabbed the bottle of milk Charles had brought along. "For planning such a nice day out."

She struggled with the top of the bottle for a few moments before Charles sighed, placing his sandwich atop of the basket and taking the bottle from Esme's hands. With a twist, it popped off. Was it strange that Esme noticed the veins pop out from his hands?

"Thank you," Esme said, reaching out to take the bottle back. But Charles' hand had slid from the bottle to Esme's own hand, and his fingers rubbed against the top of her hand. It wasn't as gentle as she imagined it to be.

She pulled her hand back quickly.

"There's a reason I bought you out here today," he said after a moments pause as he took in the situation. "I wanted it to be special."

"What be special?" Esme said tentively as she took the bottle back.

He was silent for a moment and she could only hear the soft singing of the birds.

When he spoke again, it had been a few minutes of awkward silence. "I talked to your father yesterday." This grew no surprise from Esme for Charles and her father were very close and often shared a pipe together on the front porch or a drink in the kitchen late at night.

"I hope you weren't talking about me," Esme replied, but secretly hoped they were.

"Actually we did," he answered.

"Nothing bad I hope."

Charles cleared his throat loudly. "No… No I hope not."

Esme loved how he was so hesitate. "What's wrong?" she asked him and reached out to stroke his face. He leaned back away from her approach and cleared his throat once again.

"I want to say this before I forget how to say it."

She nodded, taken aback. "Go ahead."

"I asked your father if I could marry you."

Esme's eyes popped. Marry Charles? "What did he say?"

Charles starred at her, assessing her reaction. "He told me I might as well as you."

Esme said nothing for a long while, her eyes locked on the checkered blanket. After a while, she forced herself to say simply, "Well then."

She managed to tear her eyes from the blanket to look into Charles' eyes. They had a hint of anger in them that made Esme's own eyes widen further.

The minutes ticked on until Charles asked, "So, will you marry me then?"

"I'll… I'll have to ask my father."

The storm in Charles' eyes blazed on. "Very well," he responded, getting up off the picnic blanket and snatching the basket off the ground. "I'll bring you home right away."

Esme had enough manners to reply, "That would be very lovely, thank you."

It was little than half an hour later that Esme was back at home surrounded by her mother, her father, and her newly married best friend.

"He asked you to marry him?" Delilah gushed, her cheeks reddening even more than her newlywed glow.

Esme nodded absentmindly.

"And what did you say?!" demanded her mother, who had long ago planned out her daughter's wedding in her head.

"I said I'd talk to father." Delilah and Mrs. Platt suddenly rounded on Mr. Platt who sat in the very corner of the house, sipping on some scotch.

"Tell her to marry him!" Mrs. Platt cried, but her husband just took another sip from his glass.

Delilah had the decency to turn back to Esme and ask, "Do you want to marry him?"

Esme considered what to say in her head for a second before responding, "I'm indifferent towards him."

Her mother rolled her eyes dramatically. "I highly doubt that, he's been coming around to see you all the time."

Esme merely pressed her lips together.

"You can't say you don't like him," Mrs. Platt tried again.

Her daughter mulled and faired, "I'm not opposed to him in the least."

"But is that good enough to marry him?" Delilah pressed.

"I don't know."

Her mother was quick to put in, "You're twenty-two! It's about time you settled down."

There was a sigh from the other side of the room, and Mr. Platt placed his drink down with a clatter on the wooden table. "Esme, this is ridiculous. Charles Evenson comes from a decent family. He is a man with good prospects and a good friend of this family. He has asked you to marry him. Don't turn him down."

Esme, who never did what people demanded of her, clenched her teeth together. "And what if I don't want to marry him?"

Her father stared back at her with a set determination. "I don't care. You will."

"Father!"

"Esme…" His face softened as he stared at his daughter, who was sweet and beautiful and deserved a bit of stability in her life. "I know what's best for you. Marry Charles."

And that was how the diamond ring appeared on her finger.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Esme!"

The sound came from the front door and immediately Esme dropped her fork and pushed herself away from the table. She knew that voice as if it were her own. They did sound very much alike anyhow.

"Mabel!" Esme rushed towards her sisters arms, throwing her own around her neck. "Oh, you made it!"

Esme's sister blushed lightly, pressing her face into her sister's curly hair. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

Esme nodded mutely, breathing in her older sister's soft scent. Somehow she felt safe from her life, if only she could stay in the protection of her sister's arms forever. Mabel was the very opposite of Esme. She wasn't wild or adventurous or outgoing, but rather owned a nice and comfortable house with her husband in Detroit and had a job making blankets. A very stable life.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered quietly enough so no one else could hear.

"Mabel, so glad of you to drop by… an hour late." Esme and Mabel parted from their embraced to find their mother standing up from her chair, her hands on her waist, obviously annoyed.

"I beg for your forgiveness Mama," Mabel pleaded. "We had car trouble."

Her mother perked up at the sound of 'we'. "Is John here then?"

"He's getting our bags out of the car. I hope you don't mind if we settle into my old room for a couple of days. I want to see how married life suits my sister."

A smile emerged on Esme's face that shone radiance across the room. Her sister would be staying! Esme watched as her sister went over to hug her mother and give the standard kiss on the top of Father's head. Their family was together again. It was all that mattered.

A rough cough interrupted her smiles and Charles emerged by Esme's side. "Aren't you going to introduce me…?"

Esme grimaced to herself, but nodded ruefully. "Mabel, meet my… husband. Charles Evenson."

Mabel turned from talking to Delilah with a big smile on her face. She was truly beautiful.

"Charmed," she said with a smile and held her hand out for him to shake.

Charles turned her hand over and bent to place a soft kiss on the top of her hand. Esme stiffened.

A warm pink spread out on Mabel's cheeks.

"It's a pleasure to meet Esme's sister… my sister-in-law now."

Mabel was indeed instantly charmed, and she turned away from Charles sight line to grin at Esme. "You lucky girl," she whispered devilishly.

Esme merely bowed her head and forced a shy smile.

They enjoyed the rest of the meal, Charles and Esme said their custom thanks, and together they got back into the car and drove to Esme's new home. They said nothing in the car and Esme could feel the tension between them. It wasn't a good tension, it wasn't a tension that would soon end with happiness, but more of a tension of what was to come of their whole life together.

The car came to a stop and Charles gracefully thanked the driver. He handed him a few bills, while Esme headed towards the house in front of her. The house it seemed made she heart leap. She couldn't not be dumbstruck by the beautiful architecture, the tall pillars, the shuttered windows, and even a white picket fence. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she thought living here.

Esme approached the house, standing in front of the door. It was painted bright red and she couldn't help smiling at how perfect the house was. Even by the door there was a little mailbox. Would she come out each morning to say hello to the mail man?

She opened the red door and stopped before entering. The inside was nothing like she was imagining. Where were the bright lights, the crackling fire, and the little puppy to welcome her home? The smile on Esme's face was wiped clean and turned into a frown. There were no flowers, no bright colours, and no patterned curtains. Not even pictures or a bench to take off your shoes.

"Would you get in already?" Charles voice broke through her thoughts and suddenly she felt his hand on her back. He shoved her through the doorway and she stumbled before finding her balance. She would not fall in front of Charles.

"Follow me," he said, his voice emotionless. She gulped, nodded and walked in his footsteps, up a stairwell, down a hall, until they reached a door. He opened it and led her inside what could only be a bedroom. Their bedroom.

"Sit," he told her and headed towards another door at the side of the bedroom. Esme assumed it was a connecting bathroom.

She did what he said, trying to collect her thoughts in the process. When he returned, Charles looked at his bride, his eyes hungry. Esme gulped down her fears where she sat on _their_ bed, her white wedding dress fanning out on all sides of her.

"That was a great reception," she said, smiling. But in spite of herself, she curled up into a ball under Charles' gaze. Esme wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged herself. Her new husband said nothing, just watched her. The hairs on Esme' neck prickled.

It was a moment longer until he responded. "It was," he agreed, undoing his tie from around his neck. "Better than the ceremony anyways."

A trickle of sweat rolled down the back of her neck, dipping into her wedding dress. She didn't know why she was so afraid. It was Charles for heaven's sake. Just Charles. Her husband.

"I'm sorry about that," Esme apologized sincerely, for what felt like the millionth time.

"What's done is done," he said simply. The tie fell to the floor.

She nodded numbly. "Yes, yes, your right," Esme agreed. She got up from the bed, and started to pull the pins out of her caramel-coloured hair. She concentrated on taking them out one by one, going through the motions as slow as she could. Anything to delay what was awaiting her.

"Hurry up!" the bark of Charles voice commanded. He threw his pants towards to closet and they went whizzing past Esme's head. She gulped once again, willing herself not to cry.

Suddenly two hands were around her neck and she tensed, completely still. Her breath came in puffs, but the hands didn't move. It took Esme a few moments to realize that the hands were not tightening, but where moving across her shoulders, down her waist.

Esme closed her eyes, terrified of her own husband. His hands moved from her waist, running back up to the clasp of her dress. Charles unhooked it, and with that it pooled at her feet. Inside Esme's head, she was screaming.

His hands pressed into her skin, they felt burning hot, as if the heat would melt off her skin. They scorched, and all Esme wanted was for Charles to remove his hands and leave. She tried to remain perfectly still, but he turned her around to meet his eye.

"You. Are. Mine." Charles said through his teeth as he glared down at her exposed form.

His hands dipped down her body and Esme couldn't help but flinch away from his touch. Charles noticed though, and his eyes glowed in anger.

Esme didn't become aware of his hand before it was too late. It was too fast and she hadn't seen it coming. Charles' hand swiped across midair and came in contact with her cheek. He put so much force into it that it wheeled her back in shock and she fell onto the bed.

She gasped in surprise, her hands automatically going to cup her reddened cheek. He climbed on top of her, hovering with their eyes locked. "Until death do we part."

Esme closed her eyes and willed herself to think of the doctor, her doctor, while her eyes filled with tears. She wished more than anything that the night would just be over. Through her burning red eyelids, Esme saw the beautiful golden eyes of Carlisle Cullen and she focused on them in her memory, as each blow from Charles' fists made contact with her skin.


End file.
